Separation Anxiety
by Morkgirl
Summary: Both Mork and Mindy find their sanity tested as a corrupt, shadowy figure in the government manipulates their memories as part of a psychological experiment.
1. Chapter 1

Separation Anxiety

Part One

When Mindy awoke to find Mork missing from his place in bed beside her, she wasn't alarmed. She knew he was a restless sleeper who woke early most mornings to release all that excess nervous and excited energy by taking a long run on the nearby trails. She expected to see him any time now, bursting through the door wearing his track shorts and tennis shoes, his body glistening with sweat, his muscular, athletic thighs exposed for her to admire. He would take her in his powerful arms and kiss her passionately, the pungent odor of his sweaty body oddly alluring to her. She smiled when she thought about it, longing for his return. Getting up at a leisurely pace since it was the weekend and she wasn't in a hurry to be anywhere important, she plodded towards the kitchen in her robe, yawning as she reached for a bowl of cereal. After pouring the milk, she entered the living room and sat on her sofa, turning on the TV to watch the news which was her usual morning routine. Before she could eat the first spoonful of her cereal, she dropped the bowl in shock, stunned by the images she saw on her screen.

 _"Boulder police are still working to confirm the identity of the man who plunged from the highway into the creek,"_ the reporter said. _"No one is sure how the Jeep managed to collide with the guard rail and roll down the steep embankment, but an investigation into the accident is pending."_

Mindy approached the TV, getting as close as she could to the screen before it became a blur to her eyes, studying the news footage with intense interest. She couldn't be sure because it was barely recognizable, but she thought that the twisted, mangled wreckage of the Jeep looked familiar. It looked like _her_ Jeep. She didn't know why she thought that, since there were many people in Boulder alone who owned Jeeps that looked similar to hers, but somehow she knew. She also knew who had been driving it. One time when they were off road on a secluded section of land, Mork showed her how he could drive using only his powers. He didn't even need to use the steering wheel—his mind controlled every operation of the vehicle. As if showing off for her, he propped his feet up on the dashboard and leaned back, closing his eyes and grinning as the Jeep continued to move on its own volition, unaided by his hands. She had been impressed, but another part of her was concerned. She warned him that driving it that way could cause an accident, and she made him promise that he would never do it without her permission. Now, as she watched the horrific coverage of the accident, she began to wonder if he hadn't heeded her warning. Running to her window, she looked outside to see if her Jeep was still there, untouched and intact. When she found it missing, she felt the pit of her stomach drop in a nauseating flip, every muscle in her body becoming tense and tightening, momentarily paralyzing her where she stood. Without thinking, she rushed out of her apartment in her robe, leaving the door ajar.

She borrowed a friend's car, barely giving her an explanation. As she drove to the scene of the accident, she tried to remain aware of her surroundings and not allow her frantic, racing thoughts to distract her. After all, she couldn't help Mork if she was involved in an accident, too. The closer she got to the scene, the more chaotic it became, multiple cars blocking her path, stuck in complete gridlock as emergency crews worked to clear the area. Unable to see what was ahead of her and losing patience, Mindy abandoned her friend's car and began running towards the scene, desperate to know what had happened to Mork, hoping he had survived. The crash site was complete mayhem, swarms of ambulance, police, and rescue teams surrounding it, along with military vehicles which Mindy found strange at first until she realized they knew about Mork's alien origins and were probably trying to contain the area to protect his identity from becoming public knowledge. Some of them could have been his co-workers on the secret government projects he worked on, for all she knew. She figured since they knew she was his girlfriend they would let her through the barricade they had set up around the perimeter, but a pair of strong hands grabbed her, preventing her from moving ahead any farther.

"Where do you think you're going?" A stern voice asked her.

"Please…" Mindy said, panting from running. "I have to…get through…"

"Nobody is allowed through here, ma'am," the man said.

"But I know him! Please, you don't understand. I have to see him! Mork!" Mindy shouted, struggling against the man who held her, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Mork!"

In the distance, she saw military doctors loading Mork's body onto an unmarked vehicle. Strapped to a gurney and attached to an IV, his neck in a brace and his body swathed in bandages, he was barely recognizable, but she could tell it was him, a tuft of his brown, wavy hair protruding from beneath the bandages on his head. Blood from his wounds seeped through the bandages, revealing the true extent and severity of his injuries.

"Oh, God," Mindy said, her voice barely audible. She felt as if she could choke on her words with the grief she felt. She increased her struggles against the man who restrained her until they became violent enough that she was able to break free of his grasp, continuing her run towards Mork.

"Stop her!" The man who had held her shouted.

In response, several armed soldiers pointed their weapons at her, trying to deter her. In a wild, frenzied state of hysteria, beyond concern for her safety, Mindy continued forward, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Mork!" She screamed. "Oh, please God no….Mork!"

The men who surrounded her grabbed her, struggling to pull her away as she fought them with every ounce of strength she had available to her, her body adrenalized, her limbs flailing as they lifted her off the ground.

"No! Let go of me! Mork!"

The men dragged her to another unmarked van, placing her inside and locking the doors. She pounded on them, continuing her tearful pleas and shouts, oblivious to the calm man who sat near her until he spoke.

"Relax, Mindy, he'll be just fine," he said. "My men will take excellent care of him."

Ceasing her struggles, Mindy turned to face the man, her expression wild with rage.

"How do you know who I am?" She asked. "Do you work with Mork?"

The man shrugged. "You could say that," he said.

She studied him. He looked more like he belonged as a model in a men's clothing catalogue or a romance novel than a government scientist, his appearance polished and sophisticated, his clothing expensive and immaculate. He was so eerily good-looking that there almost seemed something unnatural, almost sinister about it, something untrustworthy. He was about her age, and seemed to be aware of how attractive he was, giving her a charming, pleasant smile that enhanced his chiseled, rugged features.

"Please, don't let him die," Mindy said, unmoved by his slick appearance or handsome looks. Her lips trembled as she began to cry again, collapsing to the floor of the van. "He's everything to me."

The man smoothed his thick, dark hair back with his hand, insulted by her failure to notice him. He told himself to remain patient. In time, she would appreciate him. She would need him more than she knew. Gently, he wrapped his arm around her trembling body in a comforting gesture.

"Now Ms. McConnell," he said in a soothing tone, "it does nothing to help Mork if you're in a hysterical state. I suggest you remain calm and allow us to handle the situation."

"How can I remain calm if Mork may be dying?" She asked. She sighed deeply. "I feel so helpless."

"I understand what you're going through, believe me I do, but you have to remain strong. You're only going to make yourself ill worrying this way."

He turned and reached into a nearby black attaché case, pulling out a hypodermic needle. As he prepped it, Mindy became aware of what he was doing, watching him with concern.

"What's that?" She asked.

The man gave her another one of his charming, pleasant smiles. "It's something to help calm you down," he said.

Before she could react, he injected her with the clear substance inside the hypodermic, causing her to lose consciousness, collapsing at his feet.


	2. Chapter 2

Separation Anxiety

Part Two

Something hard and uncomfortable pressed against the tender, sensitive tissue inside Mork's throat. He felt it as he slowly regained consciousness, his eyes fluttering open. Panicking, he swallowed against it and tilted his head back, struggling weakly to remove it, lifting his trembling hands and trying to pull on whatever was obstructing his throat, tearing at the tape that had secured it around his mouth. He tried to cry out for help, but he couldn't manage a sound, the tube lodged in his throat preventing him from speaking.

"Don't do that," a voice said, echoing distantly in his semi-conscious state. He felt someone grab his hands to restrain his actions, even though his skin felt numb and tingling. "That tube is in your throat to help you breathe."

Opening his eyes wider, at first all he could see was a glowing, white, amorphous blur. As his vision adjusted and became clearer, he saw a nice looking doctor standing over him, giving him a reassuring, kind smile.

"I know it's unpleasant, but it's time to remove it," the doctor said. "Now, I can only do that for you if you follow my instructions and remain calm. Do you think you can do that for me?"

Mork didn't know if he could trust this man, even though he wore the white lab coat of a physician. He couldn't even be sure where he was, not remembering what had happened to him to put him in such a helpless position. No doctor on Ork would ever consider shoving a tube down his throat to help him breathe, so he assumed he was still on Earth and had been injured somehow, leaving him to be subjected to their primitive form of medicine. He wondered if they knew he was an alien. Deciding he didn't have any other options available to him and desperate to have the pressure from the tube relieved from his throat, he nodded, allowing the doctor to help him.

"Good. Now, I must warn you, it will not be easy or comfortable. This is a delicate procedure that requires your full cooperation. You must do exactly as I say, or you will only cause further damage to yourself."

Mork blinked slowly, showing he understood.

"All right. Now, I need you to take a deep, exhaling breath and sustain it for as long as you can. Ready? Now. Breathe. That's it, push."

Mork strained as hard as he could, feeling the tube begin to slide against his throat like a snake, causing him to gag.

"That's it, you're doing fine," the doctor coaxed. "Just keep exhaling, that's it."

The tube was finally freed from his throat, and Mork gasped and coughed in relief, collapsing back onto his hospital bed in exhaustion. It required what little strength he had available to him to remain conscious, nearly passing out from his exertions.

"Nice job," the doctor said sweetly, offering him some ice chips to soothe his sore throat. "Here, take a few of these."

Mork eagerly took a few of the ice chips, his hand trembling as he placed them in his mouth. He closed his eyes in relief as he felt the cool, comforting, icy water glide down his battered throat.

"I suppose you're wondering where you are, how you got here," the doctor said, sitting down beside him.

Mork nodded, opening his eyes to look at the doctor.

"It was an accident. Apparently you decided to take one of the military Jeeps off the base for an unauthorized joyride, and you suffered a terrible, devastating crash that left you severely injured. You were in a coma for seven weeks and only recently regained consciousness."

Mork frowned, looking around. He noticed he wasn't in a normal Earth hospital, but some military facility, uniformed guards patrolling the corridors.

"You're very fortunate we understand enough of your alien physiology to have been able to help you," the doctor said. "Your anatomy resembles humans enough that we knew how to save you, to keep you alive. Without our intervention, you wouldn't have survived."

Mork began to realize that his secret was still safe from humanity at large, that somehow his friends in the government had been tracking him as usual and had been alerted to his accident in time to rescue him before he had been taken to a civilian hospital, where the truth about his origins would have been revealed to the world. He found himself grateful and relieved, knowing most of Earth's population wasn't ready for the truth about him yet, knowing what panic and mass hysteria might have resulted had he been discovered, not to mention how his chances of survival would have dwindled, civilian doctors unfamiliar with alien biology. Still, something about how the doctor described what had happened to him didn't seem right. The man sitting by his bed seemed too glossy, almost like those televangelists he had seen on TV and learned to mock. He didn't know why, but there was something about this man that Mork found insincere. He had never seen him before, not since he began working for the government. Moving his chapped lips, finding it strange to feel them after having them taped shut around the tube for so long, he tried to form words for the first time since the tube had been removed from his throat.

"Don't try to talk Mork," the doctor said. "Your throat is still raw and needs to rest. You shouldn't strain your vocal chords. You could damage them."

"Mindy," Mork said, his voice barely an audible whisper.

The doctor raised his eyebrow. "Mindy?" He asked. "Who's Mindy?"

"My girlfriend. Has she been here to visit me? Is she all right?"

The doctor sighed and shook his head. "I'm not sure who you're referring to Mork," he said. "You don't have a girlfriend."

Mork's eyes widened. "Yes I do," he said, almost childishly. "Of course I do. Haven't you seen her? All of you government guys that I work with know about her. Has she been here to see me?"

"What does she look like?"

Mork smiled as he thought about her, almost blushing despite his pallor. "Well, you know, she has long brown hair, very pretty. We share an apartment together in Boulder. Her father owns a music store, except right now he's touring with an orchestra I-I think." He looked at the doctor. "Come on, you have to know about her."

The doctor shook his head. "Mork, I'm sorry to inform you, but you have never left this base since you landed. I don't know who she is, but this Mindy that you seem to have conjured up in your mind must be a residual coping mechanism for the trauma you've experienced. She's a figment of your imagination. She doesn't exist."


	3. Chapter 3

Separation Anxiety

Part Three

Mindy awoke after having a peculiar dream. In it, she found herself rushing to the scene of an accident, deeply concerned about someone who had been involved. Who it was, she couldn't remember in the haze of her mind. All she remembered was that her Jeep lay battered at the bottom of a canyon, its occupant severely injured. But who would have been driving her Jeep besides her? Her father? Her grandmother? She decided to give them a call while they were out on the road, hoping they were all right, seeing the dream as a bad omen. Trudging into the kitchen, she found a tall, handsome man preparing breakfast. She smiled at him, finding nothing strange about his presence in her apartment at all.

"Good morning Alan," she said, wrapping her arms around his trim waist and kissing him. On her left ring finger, she wore a gold wedding band.

"Good morning," he said, grinning.

It was amazing, he thought, what he could accomplish with a few psychotropic drugs that he had created in the laboratory. At the right dosage, and used on the right people, he could convince them of anything. Everyone in town, including Mindy herself, thought they had been married for years. She didn't seem to remember a thing about Mork, which was exactly what he wanted.

Mindy looked down at the pancake batter. "Making breakfast for me, huh? That's sweet of you," she said.

Alan shrugged. "Well, I thought you might want to sleep in," he said, a sheepish, almost apologetic look on his face.

Mindy couldn't believe how adorable he was, how humble and kind despite his extraordinary, classically handsome appearance. With the kind of looks he had been blessed with, he could have been an arrogant, narcissistic jerk, but he was anything but that. She found herself to be incredibly fortunate to have found such a good man. She sat on one of her bar stools, watching him for a while before she spoke again.

"You know, I had a dream last night," she said.

Alan smiled. "About us, I hope," he said.

She frowned, looking down at the countertop, absently rubbing her finger on the surface as if to get rid of an imaginary stain that had faded long ago.

"Well, I'm not so sure about that," she said.

"Was it a good dream or a bad dream?"

"I'm not sure about that, either. I was kind of hoping you could explain it to me."

Alan sighed, turning off the burner on the stove. "Now Mindy, you know how I feel about that," he said. "You know my rule. I don't discuss my work outside of work."

"I know, but you're a renowned psychiatrist," she said. "Surely you had a background in dream symbolism. All I'm asking for is a little interpretation. Please? It'll help me sort it out."

"How can I say no to you?" Alan asked, taking her hands and squeezing them firmly.

"I knew you'd say yes. That's why you're such a giving man."

"I just try to help people, that's all."

"Like you help me."

"Always. Now, go ahead, tell me your dream."

"It was very bizarre."

"Most dreams are."

"I saw this…horrible car accident on the news. A Jeep rolled off the road and down a cliff. Somehow I found out it was my Jeep…I can't remember how…and I went to investigate, because I was concerned about what happened to the person driving it. When I arrived at the crash scene, there were police and ambulances and…the military was there too, for some strange reason. They wouldn't let me see who was hurt, even though I pleaded with them. I only caught a glimpse of the person involved, and they were badly banged up…that's when I woke up, Alan. It was terrible. It felt so… _real_. What could it possibly mean?"

Not showing his surprise, Alan supposed he should have expected that she would remember parts of the incident. It had not been easy for his organization to eliminate all evidence that an accident had ever occurred, making sure they erased the memories from everyone involved from the media to the first responders, but they had managed it. Only Mindy, it seemed, still remembered it, if vaguely. Yet she thought it was only a dream. He supposed that was all right, as long as she never believed it had actually happened. If she ever did suspect that it did, he would have to figure out what to do with her.

"You've been under a lot of stress lately," he said, maintaining his composure. "You're trying to finish your degree, and with your father traveling—

"That's right, my dad," she said. "I've been thinking about calling him, seeing how he's doing out on the road."

"I think that's a good idea," he said, knowing that his organization had managed to alter the memories of her family as well. Their reach was extensive, vast, and powerful. "I don't see why not. Tell him I said hello."

Mindy smiled at him, but a part of her felt unsure of him and a little uneasy around him. She knew they had been married for a few years and she loved him, but she couldn't explain why at times she felt she was living with a complete stranger.

"When are you going to show me what you do for a living?" She asked.

"Oh, you don't want to see what I do."

"Of course I do. You visit patients at the institution. You offer your time and you give them hope. You're a true humanitarian. I admire what you do and I want to be a part of it."

Alan shook his head, looking down. "It would be difficult to arrange to bring you in as a guest since you are not in residency or a relative of one of the patients. It's difficult and painful work as well, dealing with the problems of others," he said. "Not everybody can be saved. Some of them are so disabled by their illnesses that they must remain committed to be properly cared for and treated. The things they tell me during our sessions together…sometimes it is so heartbreaking, what some of them have had to endure, to suffer under constant mental anguish and torture as they do. It is a harsh business, Mindy, and our knowledge of mental illness at this present time is still so limited. We have evolved from gawking and laughing at patients as if they were circus freaks instead of human beings, but our treatment options still have limitations, I'm afraid. It's a harsh, brutal world inside that hospital, one that I face daily. You don't have to, and you should be thankful for that. I want to protect you from that."

Mindy shook her head. "I don't _want_ to be protected," she said. "I've been sheltered my whole life. I want to help people, as you do. I don't know…maybe after visiting the hospital, I might change my mind and decide to also have a career in psychiatry. You know I've thought about it. I also once thought about being a medical doctor, you know, assisting the injured and the sick. Maybe that's why I dreamt about going to an accident scene with such a sense of urgency. Because I wanted to help people."

Alan smiled. "You see? You interpreted your own dream," he said. "What do you need me for?"

They laughed, kissing.

"Are you free for lunch today? How about meeting me," Mindy said.

"No, unfortunately I can't. I'm terribly busy, I'm afraid. I have this…one patient. He's new. Quite a tough case, as it turns out. Such a pity."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Mindy said. "Maybe next time, then."

"Next time."

Mindy kept the music store running in her father's absence, hiring new people and managing it at least a few times a week. It was tiring work, and combined with her late night studies, exhausting, but she did it out of devotion to her father, who loved the store and had sacrificed a great deal in order to have his own business. She respected his hard work, and was determined to make him proud by showing him she could work just as hard to keep his dream thriving and prosperous. As she stood behind the counter during a lull in customers, bored and staring at her wedding ring, her thoughts began to wander. She couldn't explain it, but at times she thought about another man, a man she had never met before. Perhaps it wasn't a real man, but an _idea_ of a man—funny and charming, intelligent and athletic. At times she thought she could hear his witty banter in her mind, as clearly as if he was standing right in front of her. There was something strange and unique about him—what it was, she couldn't be sure—but he was just as handsome to her as Alan, perhaps even more so because of that uniqueness and that quirky personality. She couldn't explain it, but whenever she thought of this mystery man she also thought about her dream of the car accident, as if the two were connected somehow. Had there really been an accident that she had seen on the news somewhere? Was this cute and funny man a victim of that accident? Had he died in it? She was a practical woman, not inclined to believe in the supernatural, but she considered that maybe her seemingly random thoughts were more than mere coincidence.

As she stood there pondering, a small and wiry bald man wearing glasses entered the store. He appeared to be harmless, searching the record collection.

"May I help you with something?" Mindy asked him.

The man looked around, making sure no one else was in the store. When he was sure they were alone, he approached her.

"Mindy, don't you recognize me? It's me, Dr. Feldman," he said.

Mindy threw up her hands in surrender, at a loss. "I'm sorry?" She said. "Who are you? Do I know you?"

Dr. Feldman sighed. "I was afraid this would happen," he said. "I knew the agency was becoming too powerful. I should have warned you both."

Mindy looked around, beginning to grow concerned, wondering if this was one of Alan's patients.

"What are you talking about?" She asked.

"Mindy, you are under the influence of mind altering chemicals. They were developed in a lab by a very dangerous and unorthodox man who used to be a protégé of Dr. Phillips. You do remember Dr. Phillips, don't you? He captured Mork and tried to use his powers for a weapon."

"Mork?" Mindy asked.

Dr. Feldman could see her confusion, and he found it unbearable to watch. He knew how much she loved Mork, and now her memory of him had been obliterated from her mind.

"Please," he said. "You've got to remember. You've got to try, before it's too late. Dr. Phillips was dangerous, but what he had planned pales in comparison to what this man will do. His uncle worked for the Nazis performing psychological experiments on prisoners in concentration camps before he made a deal with our government to work for our side and turn in his fellow S.S. officers. He must have picked up where his uncle's research left off, and now he's developing powerful chemicals that can alter a person's perceptions of reality, just as it has for you. If he's allowed to continue to unleash his poison on the world—there's no telling what kind of power he will have. He's using you and Mork as pawns in his game, do you understand? You're his playthings, his Guinea Pigs. You have to remember, Mindy. You have to help me stop him, and you can. You're actually the closest to him and have the best access. This man—he's pretending to be your husband."

Mindy maintained her resolve, although inside she was horrified, unsure if she should be afraid of this mousy little man and his paranoid delusions. She now began to understand what Alan told her about dealing with his patients, how difficult and heartrending it could be. It saddened her that someone could be that lost in a world of their own making, but it also angered her that he implicated Alan in his fantasies of world domination and apocalypse.

"I don't even know you," she said, doing her best not to sound cruel. "How do you know who I am? How do you know my husband? Were you a patient of his?"

"Hi Mindy, what's going on here?" Alan asked, entering the store.

He and Dr. Feldman exchanged a cool, combative glare, aware of each other as professional adversaries. Mindy didn't notice, instead interpreting their look to mean they knew each other in a former time as doctor and patient.

"Ned, are you bothering this woman?" Alan asked in a pleasant, yet patronizing tone. "She's my wife, you know. What did I tell you about the limits of the doctor-patient relationship? You are not to stalk me or my family. The only time you are to see me is during my regular office hours."

Dr. Feldman ignored him, looking directly at Mindy. "Remember what I said. He is not to be trusted," he said. Turning, he took one last withering look at Alan and left the store.

Mindy shuddered, disturbed by what he had said. She knew it was the ravings of an ill man, but what she didn't understand was why it should bother her so much.

"I'm truly sorry you had to deal with that," Alan said, sighing. "If I had known you were going to be accosted by one of my patients, I would have arrived sooner."

"Is…is he…?"

"Dangerous, you mean? No. He just happens to have a rather active imagination."

He went behind the counter where Mindy stood, wrapping his arm around her.

"What's wrong? Are you all right?"

Mindy nodded, not sure why she wanted to cry.

"Look, I'm sorry he upset you, but he wasn't going to harm you, I promise."

"What are you doing here? I thought you had to work."

"I got off early. It turns out one of my patients committed suicide. Such a pity."

Mindy glared at him, tears in her eyes. For the first time, she was noticing some callousness seeping through his otherwise benevolent exterior, and she didn't like it.

"I didn't mean it like that," Alan said, sensing her anger. "It's just…I told you it was a harsh business, dealing with the mentally ill. There's absolutely nothing glamorous about it, to be certain. I'm just sorry you had to witness it first hand with Ned, there." He rubbed her shoulders and kissed her. "Are you still sure you want to visit where I work, and see more of them when you don't have to deal with them professionally, as I do?"

"That's why I _want_ to go," she said. "Maybe that's still what I want to do with my life, I don't know. Yes, I admit that man's outrageous behavior was a shock to me, but I would get used to it, to some extent. When I saw him today, I could see beneath the paranoia and found the human being. After all, that's what he is, isn't it? He's still deserving of love and our compassion."

Alan kissed her again. "You amaze me," he said, smiling and gently stroking her cheek. "I knew there was a reason I married you. All right, if you want to see what I do for a living, I'll arrange it."

Mindy embraced him. "Thank you," she said.


	4. Chapter 4

Separation Anxiety

Part Four

Mork figured he must have lost consciousness from shock after what the doctor told him, and he must have been out for a long time, because when he next awoke he found that his body had fully healed from the accident, his strength returned to him. While that perplexed him, causing him to wonder what had happened to all the time he'd lost, what confused him more was the drastic change of appearance in his surroundings. He found himself confined to a small room, a high, tiny window providing the only light, pale and filtered through a set of thick, heavy bars. He tried to get up from his bed, but he couldn't, restraints encircling his wrists, ankles, and torso preventing him, restricting his movements. Struggling against them, he looked around frantically, frightened and bewildered.

"Help me!" He shouted. "Please, somebody!"

"Good morning, Mork," Alan said calmly as he entered the room, either ignoring or unmoved by Mork's distressed cries as if they were a common occurrence, looking down at a clipboard of notes. The heavy door to the tiny cell clanged behind him and locked.

Mork stared at the handsome doctor, terror in his eyes. "Please, you have to get me out of here," he said. "What's happened to me? Where am I? Where is the base?"

"Ah yes, the base. You talk about that all the time," Alan said, shaking his head and writing some fresh notes on his clipboard. "It appears we have yet to make any progress in your rehabilitation, doesn't it? Now Mork, I want you to be on your very best behavior today, because I have some good news. A very special guest is coming to visit, and if you're good, I will release you from your restraints so that you can meet her, but you have to mind your manners and be polite, understand? There will be no incidents like the last time, when you attacked that nurse."

Mork's eyes wandered around the room, trying to make sense of his situation. "What nurse?" He asked. "What are you talking about?"

"You somehow managed to break into the hospital kitchen and threaten a nurse with a carving knife," Alan said. "You stabbed her in the leg. Fortunately, you missed any major arteries, or you could have killed her."

Mork looked at the doctor, his eyes wide. He shook his head. "No," he said. "I would never do that. I would never hurt anyone."

"But you did," Alan said. "That's why we had to place you in restraints to prevent you from harming anyone else or yourself."

"What is this place?" Mork asked. "What am I doing here?"

"You don't remember?"

"No."

"What is the last thing you do remember?"

"Waking up from a coma after being in a terrible car accident, and you were there. You were my doctor. But we weren't here, wherever this is. We were on some military base. Don't you remember? What has changed to put me here? What is this? What have I done to deserve such treatment?"

"Mork, of course you don't deserve to be here. Nobody deserves to be here. You're ill. You didn't ask to be in this condition, but that's why you're here. So you can get better."

"What are you talking about? Am I still injured from my accident?"

"There was never any accident. You've been here the entire time."

"But I don't understand. What is this place?"

"This is a maximum security facility that specializes in the care of the severely mentally ill. You're here because your paranoid delusions have taken over your life, made you incapable of caring for yourself and made you a danger to society."

Mork remembered hearing about places like this from his previous studies of Earth. There was no equivalent on Ork, except the stasis chamber where they stored not only their criminals, but those deemed mentally unfit or unsound. He realized that Earth society was not advanced enough to use the process of suspended animation to deal with its undesirable elements of society, but he wished they were. After all, he had been placed in stasis on Ork for a time for committing the crime of having emotions, and as unendurable as the experience had been for him, he almost preferred it to being fully conscious and aware of his surroundings, able to use his body but finding it restricted, trapped and confined to a small, cramped space, fully aware of how bleak, dismal, and unending his sentence would be but finding himself unable to alter his surroundings in any way. At least confined to his mind, he could begin to explore his imagination and inner fantasies and travel to other worlds of his own creation. Here, he was faced with a stark, unending reality.

"This doesn't make any sense," he said. "Is this because you told me that Mindy isn't real? That I made her up in my mind?"

Alan shrugged. "That does have something to do with it," he said, "however, I am afraid the issue is far more complicated than that. It has more to do with your belief that you are an alien. That, I believe, has compromised your ability to function more severely than simply believing in an imaginary girlfriend."

"But I am an alien," Mork said. "You were there with me at the base. You know that I am."

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, but this so-called base does not exist. It is a product of your hallucinations."

"No, I refuse to believe that," Mork said, squirming beneath the restraints. "This has to be an alternate universe of some kind, that's why you don't remember. Here, I'll show you that I'm an alien. I'll prove it to you. I'll break through these restraints using my powers."

Concentrating, Mork used his finger, which was free despite his wrist being restricted, and he pointed it at the strap around his ankle. Nothing happened.

"I…I don't understand," he said. "That's never happened to me before."

"Mork, you don't have any special powers. You're not an alien. You're just a human being, like me. The sooner you believe that, the sooner we will make progress towards getting you well."

"No!" Mork screamed, thrashing around violently, pulling and yanking the restraints until every muscle in his body was taut, straining to free himself. "No! I won't believe you! I won't! This isn't real! It isn't _real_!"

"Now Mork, I insist that calm yourself," Alan said. "You don't want to remain in your restraints as punishment for this wild and irrational behavior, now do you?"

Mork ceased his struggles, panting and sweating profusely, collapsing back onto the bed, his body going limp, the restraints refusing to give, continuing to hold him fast.

"There, now that's better. I'm glad you decided not to persist with this futile exercise. You cannot free yourself. Only I have permission release you, and I won't do it until you agree to remain calm and behave yourself. After all, I told you that you had a special visitor. You don't want to miss out on meeting her because you chose instead to be stubborn and uncooperative, now do you?"

Catching his breath, Mork turned his head to the side, staring blankly at the wall, which was made of solid concrete and looked stained as if it had been urinated on repeatedly by former inmates.

"Who is it?" He asked bleakly, resigned to his new reality but still not fully accepting of it.

"What?"

"Who is the visitor?"

Alan grinned. "My wife," he said. "She's a very special person. I think you'll like her."

Alan led Mindy into the hospital, showing her security badge to the guards at the front desk.

"Now, I don't want you to be afraid," he said. "Most of these patients are quite docile. A myth persists that the majority of the mentally ill are dangerous, but that simply isn't true. Only a small percentage ever become violent, and when they do, we know how to deal with them. Don't worry, I will be right here with you to supervise every interaction you have with them. Should something get out of hand, I will protect you. All right, sweetheart?"

"Don't worry about me," Mindy said. "I know I'll be fine. It was my decision to come, after all."

They entered the visitor's area, and immediately a foul stench invaded her nostrils. It was an odor she remembered from childhood, similar to the hospital where she and her father would go to visit her mother while she was in the final stages of her cancer. It was the smell of death and decay, the smell of the condemned and the forgotten. She knew that if hell existed, it probably smelled like that, like hopelessness and despair. The sight of the patients shuffling around in their robes, some of them completely unaware of their surroundings, also saddened her. Everyone in the place appeared to be broken and beyond repair.

"Does it have to be so dismal?" She asked. "Why can't this place look more like a home than a prison?"

"What did you expect? A palace?"

"No, but couldn't you make this place more comfortable? Give these people a little dignity? They're already suffering enough."

"I'm afraid we don't have the funds. Anyway, some of them have no control over their actions. They shatter things. We had to make this place as indestructible as possible."

As they continued to walk quietly through the visitor's area, bowing their heads in respect as if they were walking through the graves in a cemetery instead of being among the living, one of the patients began to show signs of life, not looking as cadaverous as the others. He was short but powerful and athletic, his inquisitive blue eyes actively observing his surroundings. He appeared to be anxious, his wavy brown hair disheveled, signs of stubble growing on his boyish, attractive face. Yet despite all of that, he seemed to be the sanest person in the room.

"Ah, here's the patient I wanted you to meet," Alan said, smiling. "He's the new one I was telling you about. A tough case, it turns out. Very tragic. Still, I have hope for him. Mork? Mork, this is the special guest I was telling you about. Now, I'd like you to be polite and introduce yourself. This is my wife."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Mindy said, extending her long, elegant hand.

Alan watched their interaction, relishing every moment of it. Somehow, he had managed to accomplish far more than he dreamed possible. He had completely dissolved their relationship, fractured it to pieces, destroying it beyond recognition. Mindy didn't remember him, and even though Mork remembered her, who would believe him? He had no credibility, his sanity in question.

"Mindy?" Mork asked, looking at her. "Mindy, is that you?" He smiled, tears forming in his eyes.

Mindy looked at Alan.

"How does he know my name?" She asked.

"I told him," Alan said.

Mork reached out to her, trying to touch her. His hand gently brushed against the silk of her dress.

"It is you," he said. "He told me that you weren't real, that you were a hallucination, but here you are, standing right in front of me. I can touch you. I can _feel_ you. Mindy, don't you know me? You have to know me. I don't know what's happening here, but you're not his wife. You're mine. You're my girlfriend, and you have been for some time. Come on, you have to believe me. Don't listen to this man. He claims he's a doctor, but he's doing something to us, trying to separate us. Please, Mindy. You've got to help me. He's got me locked up in here, but I'm not out of my mind. I know who I am. I know who you are, too. You've got to remember. You've got to remember you love me. Please. Don't let him do this to us, whatever it is. Don't let him destroy us."

He began to sob, leaving Mindy to stand there, dumbfounded, unsure what to say to comfort this sweet, demented man. There was something endearing and vulnerable about him that stirred her pity. Instead of being afraid of him, she wanted to help him, finding herself strangely drawn to him. He reminded her of the man she often thought about in her dreams.

"Bring security in here to escort this patient back to his room," Alan said to a nearby orderly.

"No Alan, don't do that," Mindy said, gently grabbing his arm. "He isn't bothering me."

"He's becoming disorderly."

"No he's not."

"Mindy, we are a secure facility. I'm afraid I have to pacify unruly patients before they do something rash."

Several burly security guards surrounded Mork, towering over him, making him look so small and vulnerable. They were prepared for him to resist him, their hardened expressions showing they were veterans used to handling the most violent patients. They approached him from behind, grabbing his arms and pinning them behind his back.

"No! No, please, let go of me! Mindy! Mindy!" Mork screamed, thrashing around, his strength almost equal to the men that held him, making it difficult for them to maintain control as they began to drag him down the hallway. "Mindy! Don't let them do this to me! You know me! Mindy!"

Mork's voice faded as the doors to the ward slammed, locking shut. Mindy stood there, haunted by the man's pitiful, frightened expression and sorrowful eyes. He looked absolutely terrified, as if they were dragging him off to his execution. She didn't know why, but she almost believed him. With his adorable, boyish looks and his innocence, he didn't seem like he belonged there.

"I'm sorry you had to witness that," Alan said, placing his hand on her shoulder.

She turned and glared at him. "How could you do that to him?" She asked. "He wasn't a threat."

"He was losing control. He's a seriously disturbed man."

"But they could hurt him in there!" She said, pointing at the locked, barred doors to the ward.

"Don't worry. He won't be mistreated in any way. He'll get the help he needs."

"That poor man," Mindy said. "I _feel_ for him."

"I don't blame you. As I said, it's a tough case, very tragic. After seeing what you have today, I wouldn't blame you if you changed your mind about choosing psychiatry as a profession. I warned you it might be disturbing."

Mindy shook her head, still staring at the barred doors, wondering what torment the patient named Mork was experiencing behind them.

"No, it hasn't disturbed me at all," she said. "It's educated me. Thank you for bringing me here. I'll never forget it."

"Come on," Alan said, also glancing at the doors. "Let me take you home. It's been a difficult day."

Mindy agreed, allowing him to escort her like a gentleman out of the hospital. A part of her resented his behavior, wondering how he could remain so aloof and composed while one of his patients suffered. She felt guilty for being treated so gently while Mork had been hauled away like an animal, not privileged enough to be treated with the same courtesy and respect that she, a member of the sane class, was afforded. She felt terrible for Mork. He had been so sweet to her when he professed his love for her. He almost made her believe they had known each other—how that was possible, she didn't know. Still, she found herself profoundly affected by him, and she decided she would come visit him again, even if she had to do it in secret. She wanted to get to know him better.


	5. Chapter 5

Separation Anxiety

Part Five

Confined to a straightjacket in a padded room, Mork sat slumped on the floor, leaning uncomfortably to one side and unable to right himself with his limbs so tightly restricted. He wondered how his powers had abandoned him. If he could only have them back, he could free himself in mere minutes. There was something this doctor was doing to him, some strange power he had over him, that had somehow managed to deactivate them, to keep him as this man's prisoner and convince Mindy that she never knew him. If only he could figure out how, maybe he could reverse everything. Maybe he could get back to the way things were before his accident had ripped their lives apart. Then again, he thought grimly, maybe this man was right. Maybe he _was_ insane. He watched as the doctor entered, looking too smug and handsome for such a place. He glared at him sullenly.

"Well Mork, how are you feeling? It's nice to have you back," Alan said, helping Mork to sit upright.

The expression in Mork's eyes softened. "When can I get out of here?" He asked.

"That all depends on you. I told you this was the price you would have to pay for your misbehavior."

Mork stared blankly into the distance. "She looked so much like the Mindy I know," he said. "It had to be her. Why didn't she know me?"

Alan smiled, doing his best to look kind and understanding. "I've been married to Mindy for three years now," he said. "Mork, she's my _wife_. She has nothing to do with your fixation. You just happened to see an attractive woman who happens to have the same name as your delusion, and you altered your thoughts to fit the facts as you see them. She isn't, nor has she ever been, your girlfriend. Did you see how she looked at you? She's never met you until yesterday."

"Yesterday? How long have I been in here?" Mork asked, looking around the padded room.

"Twelve hours. Most of that time you spent heavily medicated. I'm sorry, Mork, but you must understand. You were uncontrollable. You were in the same highly agitated state you were in when you attacked the nurse. We couldn't afford to take any chances and risk another violent outburst from you."

"I still don't remember attacking anyone," Mork said. He looked at Alan, challenging him. "I don't think I ever did."

"Believe what you wish, but you did, Mork. You're a violent patient with a history of psychotic episodes. You have to be closely monitored."

"But I'm fine now. I'm calm. Can't you let me out of here?"

"Out of the jacket and this room? Certainly. Out of this hospital? I'm afraid not."

"You still don't believe me, do you?" Mork asked. "I know Mindy. I know her very well, and she isn't with you. She's with me."

Alan scoffed. "Even if you were right, which you aren't, do you really think she would be better off with someone like you? Someone who is mentally unstable? I can provide for her, you see. I can give her the stability she needs. I can provide her with a good home."

"I used to be able to do that for her too, until you took it all away from me," Mork said sadly.

"Are you listening to yourself? Your paranoia is manifesting itself again. What power do I have to take anything away from you? I'm a doctor. I'm trying to help you, not harm you. I wish you would believe me and allow your therapy a chance to work. Perhaps if you show some signs of improvement, you will eventually be released and you can find a Mindy for your own."

"I don't _want_ any other Mindy," Mork said, sighing. "I want the one you've taken from me. I want her back."

Alan shrugged. "I'll give you a few more hours in here to think about it," he said, a cruel smile forming on his lips.

"Wait! No, please…please, don't do this to me!" Mork shouted, squirming in the jacket.

The door to the padded room opened.

"This patient is still violently psychotic," Alan said to the guard. "I'm leaving him in here for a while longer. Watch this door and make sure that he doesn't attempt to escape."

"Wait! Don't do this! Don't leave me!" Mork screamed, his shouts drowned out as the heavy door slammed shut.

Mindy waited for a day when she knew Alan wouldn't be at the hospital to return during visiting hours, reusing the security badge that had been issued to her during her first visit. She showed it to the nurse at the front desk station, hoping that it would work and she could gain access. The woman, an overweight nurse with coarse hair that looked as if it had the texture of wrought iron, looked at her skeptically.

"I'm sorry, but you're not allowed in there," she said, shaking her head and smirking with an air of superiority, her cynical expression showing that she had seen everything and wasn't easily fooled.

"Please," Mindy said. "I'm here to visit a patient."

"Are you a relative?"

"No."

"Then you can't go back there. Visiting hours are for family only."

"Wait," Mindy said. "I'm Dr. Friedman's wife."

"Dr. Friedman? That hotshot doctor who volunteers his time by counseling some of the patients in here?"

"Yes, that's right. He told me I could come. You see, I'm studying to be a psychiatrist myself."

The nurse raised her frizzy eyebrows. "Two shrinks in one marriage, huh?" She asked, rolling her eyes. "Lord help us. Does he know you're here?"

"Who?"

"Your husband, dear."

"Uh…yes, yes he does."

The nurse frowned at her. "Maybe I should give him a call at his practice, just to make sure," she said.

"No—please, don't do that. He's very busy with clients, and I don't want to bother him at his office during his sessions," she said. "He knows I'm here. He told me not to call him unless there was an emergency."

"Uh-huh," the nurse said, studying Mindy carefully. "All right, I guess you can go back. You seem trustworthy enough."

Mindy sighed with relief. "Thank you," she said.

"Who are you here to see?"

"Huh?"

"What's the patient's name, darling?"

"Oh, sorry. Mork, his name is Mork."

"Mork? I thought he was still under lockdown. I'd better check to make sure his visiting privileges have been returned to him."

"Lockdown?" Mindy asked, growing concerned, thinking about the last time she saw him being dragged away by the security guards. "What does that mean?"

"Honey, you're the one studying to be a psychiatrist. You should know. When a patient becomes violent, we have to confine them for a certain period of time before they're considered fit to be released back into the general hospital population. Mork is one of our more violent and unpredictable patients, so great caution has to be exercised with him. He's placed in lockdown a lot. This most recent stay has lasted longer than the others."

"Oh God," Mindy said. "I can't help but feel a little responsible for that."

"Why would you be responsible?"

"I visited him before, with my husband," she said. "He acted like he knew me and became upset, but he wasn't violent, not in the least. He was just lost and confused. He doesn't seem like he's capable of violence, unless he's acting to defend himself."

"That's not what your husband told me," the nurse said. "He told me that man should be kept under strict observation. I've seen him, too. I was on duty the night they brought him in. He was totally out of it, screaming and raving and thrashing around like a wild animal, biting the hands of arms of the security guards. He's a little guy that one, but he's incredibly strong. It took at least ten men to subdue him, and even then he somehow managed to break free. He stabbed one of the nurses in the leg with a knife he found in the hospital kitchen. She's all right, thank God, but he could have caused her some serious damage. He has a wild, confused look to his eyes, too. I hope you know what you're getting into."

Mindy tensely held her breath for a moment. "So do I," she said, exhaling deeply as she released it.

The nurse picked up the phone to check on Mork's status. When she was done, she hung up, looking at Mindy with a scowl.

"You're in luck," she said. "He's been released from lockdown this morning. He's in the recreation room. You can see him in there."

Mindy entered the recreation room, finding little happening in there that resembled recreation at all, patients milling about listlessly staring at a TV with poor reception or sitting absently in front of a battered checker board, not engaged in a game. She found Mork sitting alone at one of the battered, lopsided tables, staring out the barred window. He was a little scruffier than when she last saw him, but he still looked healthy to her and out of place. He seemed so sedate that she could never imagine him becoming violent, as her husband claimed, but then again she knew he could be medicated. Like many other things about Alan, she was beginning to wonder if he was lying about that, too. What was his particular interest in this patient? She wondered. Why was he keeping him under such strict observation, as the nurse had called it? She intended to find out, curious about him. She approached him with caution, sitting down across from him.

"Hello Mork," she said softly, hoping not to startle him. She smiled. "Do you remember me? I was here the other day."

Mork continued to stare out the window.

"I want you to know I was appalled by the way they treated you. I hope you're all right."

Mork sighed. "Please, don't pity me," he said. "I don't think I could bear it."

"All right then, let's just talk."

Mork maintained his gaze out the window, saying nothing.

"Come on, I know you want to talk. You must be lonely."

Mork looked at her for the first time, and she noticed that that the clear blue eyes she had seen from her last visit were now bloodshot and moist with tears.

"You've always been very kind to me," he said, smiling sadly. "I've missed you."

She thought about how sweet he was, how innocent he seemed. He didn't fit the image of a violent, rampaging madman. If anything, he was lost and sad, desperate for the affection that such a hostile, brutal environment could not supply. She wondered if that was why he believed he knew her. She was the only one who treated him with compassion, made him feel normal and worthy of love.

"Mork, do you remember how you got here?" She asked.

"No…all I remember was that I was in an accident, and then somehow I ended up here."

"Accident?" Mindy asked, reminded of her recurring dream.

Mork nodded. "A car accident," he said. He noticed that she appeared deep in thought. "What is it, Mindy?"

She supposed she should have felt uncomfortable the way he addressed her so informally, as if they had known each other for years and were intimate partners, but she liked how he spoke to her. His voice was warm and comforting, revealing a certain amount of friendliness that her husband's voice lacked.

"It may be nothing," she said. "It's just…it's weird that you mentioned a car accident. I've been having dreams about a car accident. The details are a little vague, but in my dream I'm always frantically rushing to the scene, as if I know the person involved."

"That's because it's not a dream. It really happened. It happened to both of us, and the moment it happened our lives were ripped apart."

"I don't know. Could it be real? Could you be right? It seems so strange that you and I would share the same experience. It does seem like a little more than a coincidence, that's for sure."

A burly orderly appeared, towering over them, his expression dour and menacing.

"Come on Mork, visiting hours are over," he said. "It's time to go back to your room and take your medication."

Mork looked at Mindy, wanting to stay with her a little while longer.

"You heard me," the orderly said. "Don't make me get the guards. You don't want a repeat of last time."

Mindy shuddered, remembering Mork's tormented screams as the security guards dragged him away.

"You'd better go," she said gently. "Come on."

Mork nodded sadly. "You don't have to believe me," he said as he stood. "I'm just asking you to have the courage to consider it. We knew each other once, Mindy. We loved each other. I hope, someday, that we can love each other again."

The orderly grabbed his arm, forcibly pulling him away, but he wrenched himself free.

"Now Mork," the orderly warned.

"I'll go," Mork said. "You don't have to grab me."

The orderly stared at him, considering whether he could trust him.

"All right," he said, "but no funny business. If you attack me, I'll have the guards pouncing on you so fast you won't know what hit you."

"I won't attack you."

"Then let's go."

Mork followed the orderly back towards the ward like a dutiful child, not wishing to cause a scene and upset Mindy. He glanced back at her longingly, holding his gaze for as long as he could before they reached the secure doors. He managed a shy smile, waving at her before he disappeared behind the heavy, barred doors, locking tightly shut behind him.

As Mindy watched him leave, she had noticed something unusual, something she couldn't explain. When Mork passed the unused checkerboard, the pieces arranged on the board in a suspended mid-game placement, he absently moved one forward with his finger, but not in the usual way a human being would move it. His finger didn't even graze the piece, yet somehow it moved as if it had a will of its own. He didn't even seem to notice, as if he had willed it to move subconsciously. She began to doubt her own sanity, wondering if she had imagined it. Yet she had seen it clearly. He hadn't touched the game piece. Nothing was attached to it to make it move that way, like an invisible wire that a magician might use to perform such a feat. Somehow, he had moved it without touching it or manipulating it in any way. She left the hospital wondering what she had seen, wondering what it could mean. Also, she began to realize that she was starting to believe him.


	6. Chapter 6

Separation Anxiety

Part Six

"You visited Mork, didn't you?" Dr. Feldman asked as Mindy left the hospital, startling her. She didn't know what to say to him, staring at him.

"Admit it Mindy—you're starting to remember. Dr. Friedman's organization may be powerful, but it still has its limitations. You'll see. In time, you will begin to remember. As for Mork, my men have already infiltrated the hospital. We're working on a plan to rescue him. We discovered that the drug Dr. Friedman has been giving Mork suppresses his powers, but its effects are only temporary."

If Mindy hadn't seen the phantom checker piece move on its own, she would have continued to believe that this man belonged in the hospital building behind her. After what she had witnessed and what Mork told her, she began to wonder if there actually was some truth behind the bizarre story. Still, something about him made her uncomfortable. Unsure how to respond to him, she smiled and nodded politely, walking down the street away from him. Dr. Feldman watched her leave, not insulted by her behavior, knowing she wasn't to blame.

"Soon Mindy," he said. "Very soon, you and Mork will be home."

Mindy waited for Alan at his practice, the receptionist allowing her to be in his private office where he consulted clients since she was his wife, which gave her easy access to his patient files. She knew that it was possible that the hospital had information on Mork instead of Alan, regretting that she hadn't spent more time at the hospital to try to find his records. Still, she knew there was a chance that he might have some file on Mork at his office as well, since he was his patient. Making sure no one was watching her, she began to open his filing cabinets, rifling through the folders until she did find one labeled with Mork's name. Once again glancing around to make sure she was alone, she pulled out the file and read it.

 _The patient is diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic with a history of violent psychotic episodes,_ it read. _The patient has delusions, including the belief he is an alien and has a human girlfriend named Mindy._

Beyond this rather bland and generic description, she found little of interest. It almost read as if it had been written by rote, as if to satisfy the requirement for a patient file. It sounded so removed and distant from its subject that she began to wonder if he had ever counseled Mork at all. His file read more like a psychology paper than an actual case history. She found its impersonal tone disturbing, as if he was trying to hide what was really going on with Mork. She thought about that strange man that kept following her, telling her about Mork's powers and some powerful, secret organization. Once again, she was plagued by doubt, wondering if what he said was true, wondering if her entire life with Alan was a complete fabrication.

"Hello, Dr. Friedman," the receptionist said outside the private office, alerting Mindy. "Your wife is waiting for you in your office."

"Thank you, Mary," she heard Alan say.

Quickly, she placed Mork's file back in the filing cabinet and sat down in one of the chairs opposite his desk, maintaining her composure. When Alan entered, she looked up at him and smiled.

"Oh, well, this is a pleasant surprise," he said.

"I just thought I'd stop by to say hello and see how your day is going," Mindy said, doing her best to remain calm.

Alan nodded, gently closing the doors to his office. He stood behind Mindy, rubbing her shoulders.

"You're tense," he said. "What's the matter?"

"Oh, nothing."

The force of his rub became harder. Mindy squirmed uncomfortably.

"Alan, that's a little rough," she said. "You're hurting me."

Alan ignored her, continuing to apply pressure to her shoulders.

"I said that's enough," Mindy said, struggling beneath his firm grasp.

She tried to stand, but he pushed her back down into the chair.

"I know you visited Mork today at the hospital," he said.

"How did you know that?"

"Mindy, please. He's my patient. What did he tell you? More of his nonsense about how he knows you?"

"Whatever happened to doctor-patient confidentiality?"

Alan scoffed. "You're not a doctor," he said. "What were you doing there?"

"I wanted to talk to him. I'm still considering studying psychiatry, and I thought he would be an interesting patient to talk to and learn from."

"If you want to talk to a patient, I know quite a few who are a lot less dangerous. He could have killed you."

"He doesn't seem like the type."

"Mindy, who is his doctor? Who do you think is a better judge of his condition—you, or me? The next time you want to talk to a patient, ask me first and I will arrange it. As it stands now, you abused my authority to gain access to one of my patients. That's a breach in ethics. If the hospital ever finds out, my career will be in serious jeopardy."

"I'm sorry."

Alan smiled, releasing the pressure from her shoulders. He returned to gently massaging them.

"I know you are," he said. "You were just curious."

Mindy relaxed, releasing a deep breath in relief. "You are right about him, you know," she said, hoping to convince him that there was nothing suspicious about her visit. "The poor man is deeply disturbed. I guess I just wanted to help him."

"Well, you leave the helping to me," Alan said. "I'm a professional. Mork is receiving excellent care, don't worry. Now, how about dinner tonight? I think both of us could use a relaxing night out."

Mindy began to realize that he didn't suspect anything. Now both she and Mork would be safe, and she could leave his rescue to the strange man she kept encountering, hoping he was right.

"That sounds great," she said.

As Alan continued to rub her shoulders, her discomfort returned. This time, it had nothing to do with the amount of pressure he was applying. Instead, she had a vivid memory of him injecting her with some strange liquid. It was a mere fragment in time, a brief, momentary flash, but she remembered it clearly, the image haunting and disturbing her. It frightened and confused her, and she wondered if it was a part of her life that she was missing, that she had forgotten. Once again, she found herself confronting the idea that perhaps Alan wasn't who she thought he was at all.

When they went to dinner, they had barely sat down at their table when the maître'd approached Alan and whispered in his ear.

"I have a phone call," he said to Mindy. "Excuse me."

Mindy waited for him patiently, but he never returned.

Several of Dr. Feldman's men, disguised as nurses and orderlies, entered Mork's room at the hospital. They found him strapped to his bed, heavily drugged.

"My God, what have they done to you?" Dr. Feldman asked.

He motioned for the orderlies to enter with a gurney.

"Help me get him out of these restraints and transfer him to the gurney. We're getting him out of here."

Obeying his orders, they loosened the straps holding Mork until they were completely undone. Carefully, they lifted his limp body onto the gurney, the motion causing him to stir slightly and moan.

"It's all right, Mork, you're going to be fine," Dr. Feldman said, placing his hand gently on Mork's head and smiling. "You're safe now. We're taking you home."

He wasn't sure Mork heard him, his eyes half-open and glazed before they closed again and he settled back into his drugged stupor on the gurney. Still, he wanted him to know that someone was there for him. He only hoped they weren't too late, that they could reverse the damage that Dr. Friedman had caused. He covered Mork's supine body with a sheet, trying to make him as comfortable as possible as they began to move him, wondering if he was aware of anything in the haze of his drug addled mind. As they rolled him down the corridor, they were met with little resistance. In their uniforms, wheeling a patient on a gurney, they looked as if they belonged there on official business, inconspicuous. It wasn't until they reached a belligerent security guard at the front desk station that they began to arouse suspicion, his enormous, bulky frame blocking their path to the exit.

"What are you doing with that patient?" He asked.

"We are transferring him to another facility," Dr. Feldman said. "I am a colleague of Dr. Friedman's, and he arranged the move."

Mork released a plaintive whimper and squirmed. Those on Dr. Feldman's team disguised as nurses made soothing noises to him, trying to keep him calm.

The security guard studied Dr. Feldman closely. In his white lab coat, he looked authorized to be there, but he still had his doubts.

"Let me see your paperwork," he said.

"Of course," Dr. Feldman said, brandishing his file.

The security guard inspected every document in the file. When he was finished, he appeared satisfied that it was legitimate, handing it back to Dr. Feldman.

"All right, you can go ahead," he said.

Relieved, Dr. Feldman and his team continued toward the exit unhindered. Once they were outside at the hospital's entrance, they loaded Mork onto one of their government vehicles that had been transformed to look like an ambulance, securing him before closing the doors. Dr. Feldman nodded to the driver, signaling that Mork was ready for transport. As they drove away, Dr. Feldman watched, relieved that Mork was now free, their operation successful. Still, there was one issue that had been left unresolved, and that was the capture of Dr. Friedman. His radio, concealed beneath his lab coat, crackled to life. Anxiously, he answered it, hoping his men had managed to locate the doctor and take him into custody.

"Did you find him?" He asked.

"Negative, Doctor," the voice on the other end said, distorted by interference and static.

"What do you mean? You didn't find him?"

"That's correct, Sir. His office has been vacated. It's completely empty."

"Well, did you look anywhere else?"

"We were tracking him, but somehow he managed to disappear. He's gone."

"Well, keep looking for him," Dr. Feldman said. "I cannot stress enough to you the importance of bringing him in. Find him, and soon."

"Yes, Sir."

The transmission ended. Dr. Feldman watched as the ambulance carrying Mork disappeared down the street. He was safe for now, but until they found Dr. Friedman, that safety was in jeopardy.


	7. Chapter 7

Separation Anxiety

Part Seven

Angered that Alan abandoned her at the restaurant without an explanation, Mindy drove home. As she drove through a winding mountain pass heading back towards Boulder, she felt the sudden urge to pull over. There was something about that particular spot that seemed important to her. Getting out of her Jeep, she looked around, peering down the steep embankment beyond the guardrail at the creek below as if expecting to see something. As she did this, it triggered a rush of memories so intense it overwhelmed her, causing her to stagger backwards and lean against her Jeep to steady herself. After taking a few moments to recover, feeling dizzy and nauseated, she realized why her desire to stop had been so strong. She remembered everything.

"Mork," she said, sobbing.

A streamlined black sedan pulled up beside her, looking like a sleek panther stalking its prey. The window to the passenger side rolled down, and Mindy recognized the wiry, bespectacled man inside.

"Dr. Feldman," she said, approaching the car. "Oh, thank God! Please, tell me that you have Mork and that he's safe."

Dr. Feldman smiled. "You remember," he said.

"Yes," she said, wiping her eyes. "Where's Mork? Is he all right?"

Dr. Feldman looked away. Mindy could tell there was something bothering him, something he wasn't telling her.

"What is it? What's wrong?" She asked.

Dr. Feldman sighed. "Get in," he said.

Dr. Feldman took Mindy back to the top secret government base hidden beneath the Flatirons. As they walked through the maze of subterranean tunnels leading to his laboratory, she shuddered, remembering the first time Mork was brought there against his will as an object of study, almost dying.

"It seems the drug Dr. Friedman gave you altered your memories, but the one he used on Mork produced a different effect," Dr. Feldman said as they walked. "It simulated insanity and suppressed his extraterrestrial powers. Now that we have successfully removed him from the hospital setting where he was being administered this drug, his powers have returned, but I'm afraid his sanity has not."

"What are you saying?" Mindy asked.

"We can't be sure, but it appears that Mork is suffering from some kind of withdrawal symptoms from no longer having access to the drug."

"Are you suggesting that Mork somehow became addicted to the drug that Alan—Dr. Friedman was giving him?"

"Yes."

"But why would Mork crave a drug that was causing him harm?"

Dr. Feldman shrugged. "Why do alcoholics continue to drink when they know they could develop cirrhosis of the liver?" He asked. "Why do smokers continue to use tobacco when they know it causes lung cancer? It has nothing to do with how harmful the drug is, Mindy. It has to do with its effects on the brain. Right now, Mork's brain has developed a dependency on the drug that Dr. Friedman was giving him. We're doing all we can to help him, but I'm afraid until we locate Dr. Friedman and bring him in for questioning, we may not have enough information to cure him."

Mindy nodded sadly. "Can I see him?" She asked.

"I was just about to take you to the room where we're keeping him. I must warn you though—he is extremely dangerous. His powers have returned to him, but his mind has not. That combination makes him rather unpredictable."

Dr. Feldman opened the door to his laboratory. As they went inside, Mindy was stunned by what she saw. It looked as if it had been struck by a bomb, shattered glass and dismantled equipment littering the floor.

"Mork did this?" She asked.

"Yes. That is why we have had to take extra precautions about where we keep him."

They approached corner of the lab that was cordoned off, enclosed by walls of heavy, thick metal, making it look like a tomb.

"Now, I know this may look grim," Dr. Feldman said, "but I promise you that we are doing everything we can to make Mork comfortable. He is not restrained behind those walls in any way. Actually, those walls are more for our protection than his. The metal acts to absorb the energy from his powers and contains it, preventing it from spreading to the rest of the lab." He punched in a code and opened the door to the room. "Be careful, Ms. McConnell," he said. "We're monitoring this room. Should you be endangered in any way, we will take action to assist you."

Mindy looked inside the room. It was decorated to look similar to their bedroom in her apartment, but it was in disarray, as if Mork had ransacked it. He cowered in the corner when he saw her.

"No, get away from me!" He shouted, his eyes wide with terror. "You're not _real_!"

Mindy was heartbroken when she saw how small and vulnerable he looked inside the room, like a broken doll inside a dollhouse. She glanced at Dr. Feldman in concern.

"I warned you that this is what he would be like," he said.

Mindy turned back to face the bewildered and terrified Mork. "Of course I'm real," she said, entering the room with caution, smiling at him to show him that she wasn't a threat.

Mork shook his head. "Not real…not real…" he muttered, holding his head and rocking back and forth.

"I'm right here, Mork," Mindy said, crouching down on the floor beside him. "I won't leave you. We're going to figure this out together. We're going to get you home."

Mork continued to rock, repeating the same words over and over again as if they were a mantra.

"Not real…not real…"

Dr. Feldman watched the pathetic tableau, feeling tremendous sympathy for both of them. He barely noticed when a solider appeared beside him, causing him to jump with alarm when the man spoke.

"Doctor, they need you out here," he said.

"What is it?" he asked.

"We have located and captured Dr. Friedman."

The hopelessness and despair that he felt watching Mork and Mindy suffer lifted as he realized the best chance for helping them had been delivered to him.

"I'll be right there," he told the soldier, who promptly departed. He turned back to Mindy. "Stay here and take care of Mork," he said. "I'm going to go talk to Dr. Friedman and see if there is some way we can get him to help us."

Mindy nodded, gently touching Mork. He didn't notice her presence, lost in a world of his own tormented mind. She hoped that Dr. Feldman could find the answers soon, before Mork was lost to her forever.

Dr. Feldman met Dr. Friedman in the detention cell where they were holding him, sitting down across from him. The handsome young doctor sneered at him, making him look eerily glorified.

"You might as well cooperate," Dr. Feldman said. "You're in our custody. Your experiment is over."

"There is a quote often attributed to Hitler that says, 'the greater the lie, the more people will believe it'," Dr. Friedman said. "My uncle worked for Hitler, as you know, before he defected and agreed to work with the United States government to turn in his fellow Nazi collaborators. What I have accomplished so far has been a continuation of his research. Using a few drugs that I manufactured in my laboratory, I managed to convince Mindy, Mork, and the entire town of Boulder of a reality that did not exist. Imagine what I could do on a larger scale."

"Why use Mork in your experiment?"

Dr. Friedman scoffed. "I shouldn't have to tell you why," he said. "You know perfectly well why. As an alien, he is the perfect test subject for any number of experiments. He is a valuable resource to advance the progress of scientific inquiry decades beyond where it currently is."

"He is an intelligent, sentient being, not a lab rat," Dr. Feldman said.

"Aren't you being a little hypocritical, Doctor? I mean, you did once capture him to study him, correct?"

"Yes, but I saw how unethical it would be to keep him in captivity, when he has so much to offer mankind. We are already learning more from him having him work for us than we ever would have if we kept him strapped to an examination table. After what you've done to him however, I'm afraid he may never be the same."

Dr. Friedman smiled cryptically, leaning back in his chair and crossing his toned arms.

"What have you done to him?" Dr. Feldman asked. "Can it ever be reversed?"

Dr. Friedman stared coolly at Dr. Feldman, refusing to respond.


	8. Chapter 8

Separation Anxiety

Part Eight

As Mork continued to huddle in the corner of his room, babbling gibberish to himself, Mindy realized there was nothing she could do to communicate with him in his current state. She decided to try a different approach to see if he would notice her, beginning to straighten up the room. As she moved about rearranging things, Mork did begin to watch her, surprised and confused by her presence. He observed what she was doing and stood, mimicking her, following her around the room as if trying to learn from her like a little child. Eager to help her, he began to use his powers in the effort, lifting the sheets and making the bed with his finger. It was almost as if they were home again, sharing household chores. Mindy paused when she saw him helping her. She smiled sweetly at him, hoping this was a positive sign that he was beginning to return to sanity, that their lives could return to normal.

"You see? You're doing a very nice job," she said. "Thank you for being so helpful."

Mork grinned, pleased that she approved of him. Reaching out, he touched her, his hand grazing her hair and her clothing. It reminded Mindy of when he was hospitalized, saddening her when she thought about how tentatively he reached out for her to prove her existence to himself, as if frightened that she could vanish into nothingness.

"Real," he said, smiling and nodding.

"Yes Mork, I am real," Mindy said. "I always have been. I'm here for you and I'm going to help you get through this, no matter how long it takes. I love you."

Releasing a choking, gasping sob, Mork embraced her, burying his face into her shoulder.

"Mindy," he said. "I knew you'd come back for me."

The door to the room opened, and Dr. Feldman entered, surprised to see them hugging when moments before when he had left, Mork had been terrified of her.

"I didn't get much from Dr. Friedman," he said. "I'm afraid we won't know the long-term effects of the drug on Mork, but it looks like you've already made a breakthrough."

"We have," Mindy said, smiling through her tears and stroking Mork's hair as she held him. "I can't be sure, but I think he's going to be just fine."

Several Weeks Later

Mork sat with Mindy on a hill overlooking the wilderness beyond them, his sanity fully restored to him. It was a glorious, cloudless day, the mountain peaks visible for miles on the horizon.

"I guess from now on you'll think twice before taking my Jeep for a joyride," Mindy said, looking up at the sky and closing her eyes against the sun, enjoying the feel of the cool breeze against her skin.

"Well, I admit that what I did was wrong, but I took it out in the middle of the night when nobody would see me and the cops would be less likely to give me a ticket, so I thought I would be all right," Mork said. "I never realized that I would be in an accident. It made it easier for Dr. Friedman to capture me I suppose, but I think he would have proceeded with his experiment on us regardless of whether I had been in an accident or not."

"I suppose you're right. He was pretty determined," Mindy said. She opened her eyes and shook her head. "He certainly caused some damage. Dr. Feldman told me it took them just the last few weeks to restore the memories of everyone in town, including my dad and grandmother. It's terrifying to think what he could have done if he had managed to carry his experiment further, beyond Boulder and into the world at large. I'm glad he's in custody and Dr. Feldman's team is helping to crackdown on the others in his organization. It's scary to think how close they came to altering the world to fit their own agenda. It could have been like Nazi Germany all over again, but this time on a much grander scale." She shuddered and looked at Mork. "I'm just glad you're all right," she said. "For a while, I was worried that you would never come back to me."

Mork smiled. "I was worried about the same thing," he said.

Mindy looked down at her hand, realizing that she still had Alan's phony wedding band on her ring finger. It gleamed brightly in the sun as a stark reminder of everything they had been through.

"I can't believe I'm still wearing this," she said. "I could have sworn I got rid of it a few weeks ago. I guess so much has been going on with our lives and we were so busy trying to piece things back together that I hadn't noticed."

Mork looked at her hand. "Let me see it," he said.

Mindy held out her hand. "You're not going to snap it with your powers, are you?" She asked. "No offense Mork, but I want to keep all my fingers."

"No, I'm not going to do anything like that," he said, examining the ring around her finger. "I could, but it would be a delicate operation, and far too risky." He kissed her hand and winked. "I happen to like your fingers too much to try that."

"That's good to hear. So, what are you going to do?"

Mork gently held her hand. "I was thinking of removing it the old fashioned way," he said. "Stay still."

Mindy did as he commanded, patiently holding her hand still while he worked to remove the ring. It refused to give at first, but as he gently pulled on it, it began to slide off her finger and into his hand.

"There, see? That didn't hurt, did it?" He asked.

"Not one bit."

"Good."

Mork looked down at the ring. It was such a small, insignificant, and harmless thing, but to him it represented the torment that he and Mindy had to suffer at the hands of Dr. Friedman, helpless puppets in his cruel game of mind manipulation that had threatened to separate them forever.

"What are you going to do with it?" Mindy asked.

Mork stood, brushing the dirt off his pants. He looked off into the distance and then back at the ring, studying it for a while longer, turning it in his hand. Without saying a word, and without further hesitation, he tossed it, flinging it to the bottom of the hill.

Mindy laughed. "Good choice," she said.

"It'll never come between us again," he said, kissing her.

When he released her, Mindy looked at her watch. "What do you want to do now?" She asked. "We have all afternoon."

"I don't care, as long as I get to spend it with you," Mork said.

"Of course. We'll never be apart again, as long as I have anything to say about it," Mindy said.

Mork glanced back at the Jeep, parked a few feet away. A mischievous grin curled on his lips, and Mindy knew what he was thinking.

"Mork, no," she said, "Especially after what happened to you. I couldn't bear it if you were in another accident."

"But you're with me," Mork said. "Nothing will happen, I swear, especially if you're with me. I promise."

"Oh, all right," Mindy said.

"Yes!" Mork said, springing up from where he sat. He offered his hands to Mindy and helped her up from off the ground. "Come on, let's go. I'll race 'ya!"

He laughed like a gleeful child, running towards the Jeep. Mindy followed close behind, glad to see him so ebullient, healthy, and energetic, just like the Mork she remembered. They got in the Jeep, and Mork started the engine with just a wave of his finger. Although she had been with Mork for a long time, it never ceased to astonish her when she saw what he was capable of doing with his powers.

"Don't forget seatbelts," he said, grinning.

"One day," Mindy said, buckling her seatbelt. "I swear. One day, I will learn how to do that."

"It really helps on Ork. No keys to lose."

He moved the steering wheel with the assistance of his powers and little else, the Jeep almost driving itself down the secluded trail for one last joyride with Mork, Mindy at his side.

The End


End file.
